James Potter is Nice?
by xX Lovely Green Eyes Xx
Summary: Lily is having problems at home, and is having a pretty hard time of it too. In a bout of pure luck or misfortune, depending on how you look at it Lily is thrown out of her house and is left stranded with no money or form of communication, she braves the English countryside...
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that can be recognised.

_Chapter one: No Home Away From Home_

Most of my life I've been doing it; traipsing from one parent's house to the other's that is. And I hated it. My parents being divorced left me with no choice and very little say over the matter however and so every two weeks I found myself packing up all my possessions – not that I have a lot – and dreading the announcement of my father's arrival. I was absolutely sick of the entire situation, had it been down to me I would spend every summer at Hogwarts, at my home. I glanced at the clock hung on a nail on my bedroom wall. Ten to seven, he should be arriving soon. I sighed and thought of occupy myself with... my gaze swept over my small, dull living space. There wasn't anything to occupy myself with anything.

Grunting in dissatisfaction I threw myself down on my single divan, the smell of clean sheets pleasantly greeting my nose. I didn't have much to boast with here, at my mother's house, but it was comfortable. A far cry from what was looming ahead in the near future.

The worst part of this whole set up was my dad's girlfriend, Sara. A right ugly bitch she was; her gob always open, voice always loud and never a nice utterance toward me. No matter how much she claims to care for my father, I have never believed it. How could a woman that loved a man treat him so badly? Bad feelings plagued the house day in and day out: arguments, swearing, name calling. All in front of me too! The things I have bared witness to speak for themselves and I am convinced that venom spitting Sara has no heart at all.

My theory is that my father was broken-hearted when he and my mum separated and Sara just happened to be there when he needed comfort. She is mostly the reason I hate having to go my dad's house. I was always uncomfortable in that house and that was why one weekend I decided I was not going anywhere.

"Lillian Celeste Evans! This is _not_ up for discussion. You are going tonight whether you like it or not. This will not end up as the battle of the wills, I will place you in that car myself if I have to!" my mother's emphatic speech came through muffled from the other side of the door. I lifted my head from the soft sheets to see if the barricade was holding up. I was not going down without a fight.

"Ma," I started off calmly, "Petunia stopped going to dad's after she turned fourteen. I'm seventeen in less than half a year, can't you cut me some slack? I don't want to go with him." One could not help but to feel calm when facing a wardrobe rather than their emblazoned mother. I had locked the door and had barely moved out of the way before my wardrobe had bounced in front of it in a bout of accidental magic. It's rather embarrassing to admit and I dearly hope no-one from school finds out but I still hadn't out-grown those kinds of accidents and tonight I was feeling particularly frustrated and more than slightly threatened.

"Lily come out now so I can talk to you properly." I looked at the wardrobe wearily – that thing was going to be damn heavy. My resolve remained.

"This has nothing to do with Petunia." I flopped back into a more comfortable position, this was an old argument. She was probably going to go on about his rights or something. "He has his rights-" I snorted, ha, I was right. "And it was settled in court that you would go to him every other weekend until you become of age." I opened my mouth to say something but she beat me to it.

"And not wizarding age either, when you turn eighteen, so get your act together because you've got another year of it." Again I was about to say something but was cut off by the doorbell. I could almost feel her eyes boring at me through the many layers of oak. I sighed resignedly not bothering to argue back. Struggling the heavy furniture I cursed my lack of control and my weak will. I had cracked. My mother's soft footsteps across the landing and down the stairs sounded just as triumphant as her face probably looked. A raspy voice entered the hall way.

"Where is she?" To save my mother the bother of having to answer, I slipped out of my bedroom and made my way to the front door. And I did not like what I saw Each time he came to the house (I never call it my home, only Hogwarts could be called that) he looked worse and my gut filled with pity as I recognised that he too seemed to be resigned to his fate, whatever that may be, and his eyes reflecting his broken soul. His greying red hair, dirty and uncombed, was even more mussed up in the slight evening breeze. Upon seeing me he grinned, showing off his crooked yellow teeth in an unusual show of affection and all fight left me in one swoop as I beheld his enthusiasm. His clothes were patched and fraying, giving him a trampish look and I caught a whiff of stale cigarette smoke and booze as it drifted from him, indicating that he had been down at the pub.

"Got ya stuff?" He asked gruffly. Ignoring my mumbled admission that no, I did not have my things in hand, my mother pushed me forward so I was standing on the porch and then promptly shut the door

My father had loped down the street towards the car, before realising I hadn't followed. "Well come on then..." He called to me and looked at me expectantly. I sent a piercing glare at the rusted number 26, which was tauntingly staring back, before pouting slightly and reluctantly following. At this point, my mother would not open the door even if I claimed the hounds of hell were after me. She had deserted me. I was alone with my drunken father and without my things. '_I guess this sets the tone for the next two weeks quite nicely,'_ I thought to myself.

My hand went absently to the bun which was held up by my wand, it was a good thing that I have enough sense to always keep it with me somehow. Frowning slightly, my father interrupted my train of thoughts.

"Why were you just staring at the door?" I jumped when he spoke. I guess I had looked rather odd just staring. I shook my head clearing my mind and inadvertently shaking off his question. He jumped in the driver's seat and revved the engine impatiently. "Get in Lily!" I opened the door but then hesitated as a thought hit me.

"Um dad, uh don't you think it's, uh, dangerous to drive when you're drunk?" He didn't even look up. "I'm not drunk, what on earth gave you that idea." I slipped into the car, thinking that if he were as sober as he claimed, he would be insulting mother or something and he certainly would have noticed the absence of my belongings.

No sooner had I shut the door with a loud bang – the car was so old that if the door was not banged shut you'd find it flying open when you were in full flow on the motorway – and then we were off. We sat on in an uncomfortable silence, the radio no longer worked, until he decided to break it.

"Did you ever wonder why I chose to live with muggles Lily?" I started. Where did he learn the term 'muggle'? I didn't talk to him much about the magical world. Taking my silence as a yes he pressed on. "Well when I was younger, my brothers and sisters used to tease me about being a squib. "

Honesty.

The only good thing about my dad being drunk is that he often spouted truths here and there. We swerved around a parked car dangerously and I sincerely hoped that we would not encounter any policemen on the way.

"I lived with muggles because they had as much magic in them as I did. I came from a pureblood family you know, they were ashamed of me." He finished his sentence abruptly, before starting to hum a solemn tune. Yes, definitely drunk and so much so that he didn't that he had just dropped a bombshell on me.

So he was a squib from a pureblood family… I was a half blood. Not that it mattered what type of blood you had. He left me to think in peace and I spent the rest of the journey watching the city turn into a green blur.

Before long we were standing outside the house, familiar yet foreboding. I looked up at it and peered at several of the windows, trying to determine if Sara was in. Alas, my questionable gaze was met with no certain answers, but the house looked as abandoned as the area around it. There were no neighbors and if for some reason a crisis occurred, I would have to deal with it myself, for there were no nearby people for at least a couple of miles. The seclusion somehow made sense now, now that I knew of my father's history. And despite him not being magical himself, perhaps he still held that Pureblood dislike for muggles. _'Then why had he married mother?' _I screwed up my nose in an attempt to dispel my thoughts and looked around to see if there were had been any drastic changes in the ten and a half months I had been gone. The front garden was neat, but I noted I would have to do some pruning on the rose bush before I left for school. The front steps were as unwelcoming as ever and the door needed a new coat of paint. My well trained eye caught the condition of my room on the third floor. The windowsill on the outside was rotten and the grey curtains (which used to be white) were moth bitten, giving me the impression that in my time away, nobody had bothered tending to my room. This was of no surprise to me.

My dad stopped fumbling with the keys and turned around to face me, looking at my appearance almost searchingly. "Lily, where's your junk?"


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Hehe, I'm not nearly as talented enough to own Harry Potter.

_Previously:_

_Lily tries to escape having to go to her father's house: that plan is foiled. On the journey to a remote place in England, her father reveals he is a squib._

Chapter 2: With Truth There Is Liberation

Totally exhausted I flopped onto my bed, frowning in displeasure as it left much to be desired: no sweet smelling detergent for me this time. The past three days had been hell. My dad was not the least bit sympathetic about my lack of possessions and just made me wear his tatty old clothes. To be fare, I guess to him it was a show of _some sort _of affection and if the state of the house was anything to go by, there was no petrol money for an extra trip to South London and back to pick up mere clothing, and God forbid I mention homework. And as nerdish as it sounds, the homework issue was starting to worry me slightly as I had learnt upon arrival that I had the unwanted privilege of enduring the rest of the summer here. McGonagall would through a fit if I turned up with no work having been done. Which would be completely tragic for me, seeing as I had spent hours completing the assignment. I sighed heavily and turned on my side to face the wall. Sara had been unbearable these past three days, my dad out either drinking or working, and I was slowly losing patience.

I stretched out my sore arms lazily, the constant barrage of chores and errands having taking it's toll on me. I am sure that my fingers will be permanently prune like – wrinkly and ugly with a purplish, bruised hue – telling the heartbreaking story of a student having to exchange a holiday for washing up weeks worth of dishes and carrying home heavy shopping. I sighed again in self-pity, feeling very much like an over worked house elf. In a decidedly speculative and empathising mood, I came to the conclusion that life of a House Elf was pure torture. It was slavery.

A tremendous crash and a loud shout tore me from my thoughts. Begrudgingly I got up from my bed – which was in the smallest, most tatty and unwanted room in the house – and started to make my way down towards the source of noise, the kitchen. This could not be good.

"Lily!" A voice screeched at me. Or tried to screech, seeing as how it was a male voice.

"Lily, get in here now!"

I shuffled onto the scene, all the while muttering several curses I wished to fly at him. Though I could see why he was enraged. The kitchen was in a mess. The precious dishes I had only just washed were in fragments on the floor. There were mud tracks all over the once clean floor. Several cupboards looked as if they had been scratched at. I was barely able to suppress an anguished groan. This just meant more work for me. I was about to round on my dad fiercely to ask him if he had done it, but my eyes caught the culprits before I did. An indignant looking owl was perched on the door handle of the back door and the house cat was clawing on the door, curious mewls spewing from damned cretin. The muddy paws making distinctive marks on the cream door and even and stamped my foot in frustration, its calculating eyes never strayed from the prey. I'm telling you that cat was just as evil and twisted as Sara, I mean, what cat cannot jump successfully? I looked at the floor for a second, just as longingly as the cat at the owl, hoping it would swallow me up and let me rest. My father cleared his throat and my head snapped up, my eyes locking with his fiercely. No way was he going to make me clean this up by myself. I shook my head and assure myself that he wouldn't. _'He's not like Sara. He is your father Lily.' _Careful not to step on the shards of plate I advanced closer to the two animals and noticed something quite unique about the owl. Its eyes were two different colours, one a light hazel and the other deep, dark amber. This alerted me to the fact that the owl belonged to one of my best friends, as I am sure no other owl had this characteristic.

"Come Tidwell." The owl looked up at his name being mentioned then swooped onto my outstretched arm, at last revealing a little note tied to its leg and I fumbled to get it off. _Lily_ had been written in the neat curly writing of Alice Verna, _'such distinguishable writing_,' I thought to myself fondly.

"I hope you are gonna clear this up soon." I jumped at the sound of my dad's voice; I had forgotten he was here.

"But I was just going to be-" He cut me off, sneering.

"I don't care what you were _going_ to do, listen to what I'm saying now. It's _your _fault the kitchen looks like this and so therefore it is _your _job to rectify it." He then stalked off, leaving me with the job of clearing up the kitchen and trying to deter a blood thirsty cat from mauling my best friend's pet.

Hours later I could be found slouched over the breakfast bar, clumsily nursing my cut hands and all the while reading my mail. It as I was reading the end of the letter I heard some shuffling. I didn't look up but just kept reading.

_**Lily I wish you were here, we would so much fun! I would have taken you into town to go boy-scoping or sun-bathing, you know, and later on we would stay up late and tell each other secrets (not that we could possibly have many more to tell) and I would paint your nails and you could do my hair... all that normal teenage girl stuff! It would be a change from all that studying you do and I hope you haven't overworked yourself this summer! To be honest, I think I've painted a real pretty picture here – tempting no? Do ask your parents if you could spend the remainder of the holidays with me, my mum said it would be fine and my little brother is not much for company. Between you and me, I think he has discovered the world of dating, but mum can never catch wind of it; her children are to conduct themselves properly with others. And I assure you, dating is not considered 'proper' at all in this household. The life I live Lily: oppressive.**_

_**I've got to go now, dinner's ready. Send back your reply with Tidwell. **_

_**Alice **_

_**XOX**_

Blinking back tears that threatened to spill over I laughed softly, "No Alice, I won't be coming over. You ask me every year and the answer is still the same."

"What was that Lils?" Not really registering that my father was sitting down with me I muttered,

"Nothing." He laughed. I started, and looked at him. I frowned at the glass of whiskey he had gripped in his hand, he held it like it was his lifeline. Which is pretty ironic as I, as sad as it is, am convinced that he will die due to drink. I'm all but waiting for him to drop down dead at any moment. He downed the glass and swayed slightly on his seat.

"I've been looking for you, you know!" I blinked in response. I had been in that dratted kitchen he had confined me to until I had finished with the mess. Was he really that far gone to forget it?

"I still got to tell you about the Prewett family!" Well I guess he really is sloshed. To be talking about his family is one thing, but his real name!

"It all started with my older brother, Ignatius. He never liked me you know. Thought that he was superior to me because he had magical powers. The devil managed to convince my whole family to think that, Slytherin to the core he is, sly bastard. The last time I saw all of them was at a family reunion a few years before you were born. Now that I think back on it I don't even know why I went." Again he swayed dangerously on the stool he was perched. He bared his teeth and slammed his crystal glass on the mahogany surface in anger.

"Everyone stared at me when I showed up. I had donned my Sunday best and everything, but it wasn't good enough for them. Oh no! And guess who spoke up first. You're probably thinking it was the bastard." He leaned in closer and said in a deathly whisper, "It wasn't. It was Aelfgar's little girl, Molly. You wanna know what that little . . ._ girl _said? She told me that I didn't belong there. She told me, her uncle, her father's brother, that I was FILTH!" He was yelling now and I was frozen, shocked in my seat. Boy could he overreact. "I was FURIOUS, but of course not with her but with Aelfgar and Eda. Ignatius was always the one who had tormented me most and I felt so betrayed and utterly _mortified_ when Aelfgar's daughter came out with that. And you know better than most what I am like when I am embarrassed, don't you Lily flower?" Here he paused and gave be a rueful little smile. I shivered as I thought of his past tempers and kept my mouth determinedly shut in a hope to avoid another one. In fact, I noted with a start, my father always was most... _spirited_ after a few glasses. I eyed him as he studied the empty beverage container for a while and then like turning on a tap, the words began to flow.

"I admit that what I had done hadn't been the wisest of things but I was so angry with her. I didn't even think to remind myself that little Molly was still there. I just snapped. After all those years of my older siblings torturing me lowering me, never letting me have a childhood, I snapped. What I did was awful, too awful to tell you, but I don't regret it. The only thing I regret was allowing Molly to watch, she was only three you know." I frowned, and then sighed. It really was sad that parents teach their children to believe things like that. I guess that is what happened with Snape or Malfoy and their cronies; children only copy what has been set as an example for them. So in all fairness this Molly person was just repeating what she had heard her parents say.

I didn't say anything on it though. I just sat there and listened to what he had to say. He went on for about an hour and finished the one-sided conversation by saying, "She's about ten years older than you. I think she has a child now. Named him something like William, I think they call him Bill though. You know, for short."

The next few days were pretty much the same. He would sit me down after a night at the pub and tell me about his family. And most of the things he would say to me didn't even make sense, but who was I to complain, it got me out of the odd jobs Sara had lined up for me, although she did remedy that by making the ones I did do much more laborious. Never a day goes by that she doesn't approach me with a sour look and a list of chores for me to do. She acts as if it's my fault that my dad likes to drink himself to sleep.

Sunday evening came and I situated myself in my usual seat waiting for him. As much as I hate to admit it I had started to enjoy his drunken ramblings, no matter how farfetched some of them seem to be. That particular evening he stumbled into the kitchen empty handed, his eyes blood shot and he was grumbling to himself.

I cocked my head to the side and contemplated his appearance, he didn't have his usual drink in his hand and he wasn't donning his goofy smile. Not put off by his lack of enthusiasm, I asked the question that had been burning on my tongue for a while.

"If you were from a Pureblood family, how come you married mum?"

Startled, he looked at me and said in a quietly harsh voice, "What are you talking about?"

I gazed at him, trying to figure out if he was playing with me. Now that I think abut it I can't believe I was so stupid and couldn't put two and two together.

"I mean... aren't you going to tell me about your past tonight? Last time you told me about when you met Dumbledore but didn't realise who he was." I let out a small giggle, "And you told me how embarrassed you fel-" He cut me off, eyes ablaze.

"How dare you!" He moved closer to me, his height intimidating.

"Have you been taking advantage of my previous state? You people are all the same, you magical folk." I opened my mouth but only gibberish nonsense came out.

"I ... er –I, you know- sorry, I didn't-" He didn't allow me to continue but just raised a hand and brought it down upon my cheek with such force and managed to send me flying to the ground. I was speechless. I guess you could say that it was a type of a wakeup call for me. In the days that my father was drunk, I had become too relaxed. But what he sneered at me next, totally surprised me.

"Lillian, I want you to get out of my house. And don't you ever come back!" I sat there, not quite understanding what he said. A look of rage was apparent on his face and warily I got up.

"Where am I to go?" My voice was hoarse. He hadn't hit me since I was very young and I was trying to get the vision of me cowering away from him out of my head.

He loomed above, his countenance dark and angry. "I don't really care," he said, his voice questioningly quiet, lacking the usual angry bravado. He slowly turned, as if he were in deep thought and started making his way to the kitchen. His shoulders were hunched up by reddened ears, tense and angry. He stopped for a moment and looked over his shoulder. "We are traditionally muggle-loving blood-traitors," he paused for a moment as if contemplating what to say next. The angry sneer seemed to soften under my gaze, but the calm visage clashed horribly with the harsh words, "Just get out of here."

Jumping at the command, I scrambled out of the back door and was down the garden path before he had a chance to change his mind. The area being so deserted, it really didn't matter which door I left out of as the reality was still the same. The wilderness clung to my legs and scratched at my face as I led myself further and further away from the house. Nature was a dark force to be reckoned with in this moment, just like my father. Its limbs flailed at my already burning cheek and made noises so disconcerting at this time of the night. I don't know where my feet were taking me; I only knew that I had to keep on moving.

I shuddered to think of what he might have done to me if I'd insisted on staying. Those six whispered words had as much a threat as they were an order and had made me reel in fear. Trying to ignore those thoughts and concentrate on the present, I realised something I hadn't taken into consideration. I had no money, no clothes and no food. As if spurred on by the thought, my legs moved faster, finding somewhere to stop and sleep was going to be near impossible. _'Why did we have to live in a neighbourless house? How does this benefit us at all?'_ Frustration and adrenaline coursed through my veins and kept me moving, I should have burnt out long ago and sunk into despair with only the nocturnal animals to comfort me. _'As if the thought of wild animals is any comfort,'_ I thought as a field mouse rustled its way through early autumn leaves on the ground. That particular piece of information had scarcely left my brain when I realised that there were _many_ leaves on the ground – a clear indication that there were many trees around and that, to my slowly dawning horror, I had made my way into the nearby forest. For goodness' sake! Of all the stupid things that I have done, walking unaware into a forest and taking no note of what direction I had been travelling in has _got to be _right up there in the Lily's Top Ten Stupid Mistakes. I dared not even turn around in case I lost my bearings – all the trees looked identical, as though that is even genetically possible – and just kept on walking in the general direction I had started out in. The temperature had dropped like crazy and my father's tattered shirt was doing nothing for me, I sneezed miserably and cursed the months that were left until my seventeenth birthday. Time slipped on, as it does, and I grew less aware of it as we walked on together, advancing on to the early hours of the morning.

When my feet left the soft encasement of the leaves and on to a sturdy wooden bridge, I barely noticed it. But I did notice the sign on a pole that emerged out of the flowing murky waters of a brook. I certainly noticed that the said sign informed me that I was now trespassing on private land and after the immediate thought of, _'Oh, I hope they don't call the police on me,'_ I smiled in delight as it occurred to me that I had stumbled upon my first neighbours. Disregarding the fact that people often got killed in the woods and that I did not know if these people were at all the friendly type, I speeded on with a second wind, relieved at the prospect that there was a place to rest not far from where I stood.

I arrived with a slight smile still on my face, wand in hair (that to an unsuspecting muggle would look like an ordinary stick) and hope stuck firmly in my chest. '_Welcome to Marshclose Manor indeed!', _was the only coherent thought that flitted through my mind as I took in the grandeur of the property. The sign post, illuminated by an attached lamp, had said that I was on Marshclose Manor land but never had I thought it would look like this! The Manor stood tall and grand, made up of warm coloured stone that encased wide windows and French doors. There were many Houses like this up and down the country, preserves, if you like, of the rich English lifestyle. But this, _this_ was very domesticated, unlike the other Houses. _This_ was my refuge and I only hoped that the people inhabiting it would be half as warm as how the Manor looked. I walked up the long garden path, taking a moment to admire it, and reached the front door, only to hesitate. _'What if they don't answer because it's so late? What if they door answer and skin me alive for bothering them so late?' _Gathering all my courage, I took in a breath and tugged on the old-fashioned door-bell.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

_Previously_:

_Lily is lost in the woods after being thrown out by her father. With nothing but the clothes on her back and her wand in her hair, she happened across the Manor._

Chapter Three – Unexpected Midnight Meeting

The minutes stretched on like hours and I gazed up at the waning moon, only it anchoring me – stopping me from fleeing right back down the extravagant garden path. And then I heard it, the soft pattering of approaching footsteps, the tug at the door handle and a loud creak as the door jumped out of its frame. My heart pounded in my ears loudly, a rushing noise not at all comforting. An eye stared at me from the slither of an opening, glowing eerily out of the darkness of the house. And like in those teen horror films, I was tempted to scream and flap my hands hysterically as I ran away. But my stubborn nature had my silent and rooted to the spot, there was no way that I was heading back into the forest. I opened my mouth to say something, to break that awful silence and to introduce myself but that is when I felt it, a horrible tug at my navel - like I do when I take a port key - and I was pulled inside.

The smell of food filled my nose, a slightly familiar smell, but I don't know where from. Looking around at my surroundings - which I always do in case I have to make a quick escape – I noticed several unusual things. Things I didn't think wizards would take the risk in having because of the risk of muggles finding their home. But then, I rationalized while watching a girl dancing happily in her photo frame, there were probably several muggle-repelling wards on this house anyway. I noted, with a start, that the owner of the eye was no-where to be found. They had literally vanished into thin air.

Hearing some muttering and bustling in the nearest room to me, I made my way towards the source. With every step you could hear the sound my shoes made on the marble floor, then ten times louder when it echoed. That should give whoever was working time to grab a beaters bat or something. I pushed at the door and found myself in a steamy kitchen. A lady in a blue flowery dress with blue stilettos to match was bending over a cupboard.

"Took you long enough." She said whilst putting away a mixing bowl. This took me by surprise as I didn't think she had known I was there.

"What do you mean?" I spoke softly, in a timid voice. Now you have to cut me some slack, I mean I know I'm not timid and I'm certainly not one for false pretences but come on. I was practically dragged into an unknown entrance hall and now I'm in some lady's kitchen, a lady who likes to wear summer dresses and stilettos in the dead of night, while putting away cutlery and plates. I had every right to be timid.

"What do you mean, what do you mean. You were politely assisted into the house about five minutes ago, speed is a virtue." She had straightened up and turned around, in the process of having her little say. She was a pretty lady, with long dark hair and hazel eyes. On her lips she wore a mocking smile which irked me somewhat. And what exactly did she mean by 'politely assisted', being dragged, is being dragged. No politeness about it. My only comeback was to say, "So is patience." I guess it wasn't the best of comebacks, but all I could think of was where I had seen that expression before. Neither of us uttered a word and the silence was getting awkward. I was delayed in my unwanted task of starting up conversation when distant thudding could be heard. Along with boisterous laughter. Looking up at Lady – I still didn't know her name – I saw her roll her eyes and turn back to her task.

Not able to understand how this woman could treat me as she was, and not knowing what was really going on I twisted my hands my hands together and racked my brain for something smart to say. The thudding got louder, the laughter sounded closer, and the imaginary light bulb above my head lit, as I found my tongue. Being the ever so polite person I am, I decided to introduce myself. I opened my mouth ready to talk but she beat me to it.

"So" she called to me over her shoulder, "What's your name?"

"Err… It's Lily Evans ma'am."

"So Lily," Finished with putting all the newly cleaned things away, she took out a mixing bowl and some ingredients. I looked on, mouth agape – so much for worrying that I would wake the household. She broke some eggs and rummaged in a draw, "you're in Gryffindor?" I raised my eyebrows. How had she known? Lady straightened triumphantly, with a whisk held in her hand. I knew she knew magic, but how did she know I went to Hogwarts, not to mention to small fact of her correctly guessing my house. I voiced these thoughts and she just laughed.

"My son." Lady choked out. She had moved on from the eggs and had started sieving flour. "Not a day goes by without him mentioning your name, nor a letter that does not speak of you." Presently I went red. I hated blushing, when I do my face clashes horribly with my hair and being a redhead it happens a lot, I was just glad that she couldn't see me.

"Who's your son?" She paused and looked passed me, the mocking smile back on her face.

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" I turned around and came face to face with a very shirtless James Potter. My heart started working overtime and I would not be surprised if everyone in the room could hear it. He smiled kindly down at me, showing his pearly whites.

"Mother, is the midnight snack ready yet?" He still kept his gaze on me and I felt my face heat up again.

Why is it that every time I see James Potter, or even just hear him talking, I get all weak kneed and hot? I asked Alice this once and she only tapped her nose saying, "You'll know when you're not in denial Lily dearest." At the time - and even now for that matter - I still ponder on what she was talking about. I mean if I were in denial I would know.

"It'll be ready in a mo', tell Sirius to wash his hands. I've a felling he has been up to something."

Neither of us was really paying attention to what she was saying. At least I know I wasn't. My eyes were trained on his lips. They looked soft and full, kissable lips. He was smiling softly and a single dimple was indented on his right cheek.

"Will Lily be staying, ma?" I turned my head around so I could watch her face as she replied, knowing myself I'd probably do something drastic if I kept looking at him. She was watching us with interest, as though we were lions on show at the zoo.

"Why don't you ask her yourself, hmm? Then take her upstairs to meet the rest of the family." I turned back to James awaiting his reply in anticipation. He and his family had every right to tell me to take a hike. I just hoped they didn't, because if they did I would have nowhere else to stay. He licked his lips before saying anything and I shiver ran down my spine.

"Um, so are you? Staying over, I mean?" everything seemed surreal. I mean, who shows up at someone's house at two in the morning and is asked by a resident of the so-called house if they had decided to stay? I mean, I hadn't even stated my business there to, who I now knew to be, Mrs. Potter.

I sneezed suddenly, the night once more catching up with me. Both James and his mother looked at me in concern as I shivered and sniffled.

"I'd be delighted to." I admitted finally and he smiled at me, grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the kitchen. As we went I'm sure I heard Lady muttering about 'kids these days'. My lip twitched in slight annoyance as I caught those words. I'm sure if I'm ever a mother or a teacher, I'll never say patronizing things like that. It only ever served to make situations awkward. I mentally slapped my own wrist in a show of rare self-reproach, how could I be so rude, albeit in my own head but rude all the same, about a woman who had just opened up her home to me.

I looked back into the kitchen James and I had swiftly vacated and smiled as I caught Mrs. Potter watching our retreating forms. I would be eternally grateful towards her, and I would have to prove that in my thoughts as well as actions. I was so lucky that this family hadn't been crazy muggle-hating, Dumbledore bashing fanatics otherwise I could have found myself locked up in their dungeons. A shudder ran through my body as I entertained that thought for a while and then fingered my wand in self-comfort. Yes, I would be eternally grateful.

James had a firm hold on my hand, his strong and warm, lighting me to the core. And though I absolutely abhor those ridiculous romance novels where Jane always feel electric shocks and palpitations that would send any normal person to hospital, I truly did feel safe in his sure hold. I looked up at his face, admiring the regal high cheek-bones and those thick dark lashes. He had come a long way from his bullying habits of fifth year… _'But even then,' _I reminded myself, _'he had only truly been standing up for what he believed in. He had pranked Severus that day because Sev decided that it was acceptable to bully First Year Gryffindors.'_ I sighed to myself softly, a heated argument arising in my head. I took me a while to notice that James had actually asked me something.

"Sorry, would you mind saying that again?" I asked apologetically as we mounted the staircase.

"Well, now that I have your attention," He began, a teasing smile lighting his face, "How come you came here so late? Did you go exploring in the forest and get lost or something? We're heading to the dining room by the way, everyone's up for the late night snack." I briefly wondered whether this snack thing was a regular occurrence or just a one off. I tried to smile convincingly as I told him a bold-faced lie. "I was exploring earlier this evening and fell asleep underneath a tree as I rested for a bit. The next thing I knew, it was late and dark and I had no idea where I was going. I thank God I stumbled across this place." For a moment I thought James was going to call me out. He stared me in the eye and a dark look gleamed in his eyes. He leaned in close, really close and whispered, "Lily, you have cuts and bruises on your face and hands, the sort that do _not_ come from a stroll in the forest."

He leaned back again, as if suddenly aware that he was invading my personal space. He then looked down at himself as if he was even more aware – nowhere near as aware as me, I assure you – that he was not appropriately dressed, and his cheeks flushed fetchingly. Tugging his pajama bottoms up a bit in a self-conscious fidget, he mumbled that I should to carry on down the corridor and that the dining room was in the door straight ahead, before turning and leaping up another flight of stairs. I watched his lithe form interestedly before smiling softly to myself and following his instructions. It was sure to be an interesting night.

**AN: A shout out to everybody who reviewed! And I wish you a very late happy valentines day!**


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